The Darker Side of Heaven
by InsaneDuality
Summary: It was so wrong. To meet somebody at the funeral of his dead girlfriend. But Nick is everything that Sam thinks he needs after Jessica's death. He never meant it to be anything other than platonic but life has a way of tripping you up.
1. Dragonfly

Title: The Darker Side of Heaven  
Chapter 1: Dragonfly

 _Maybe the sky's falling down around the babies. Maybe the world is going to spin out of control. I don't care anymore- Dragonfly by Shaman's Harvest  
_  
The sun was shining and that alone felt like an affront to Jessica's memory. It would have felt more appropriate if there had been a storm. A hurricane. Something to express how Sam Winchester felt on the outside for the world to see. Something that showed that the entire world was falling apart instead of just the small fraction he called his own.

Maybe if he had been a bit more cynical, he would have saw the bright sunshine, so out of season for November, as an omen. Maybe he should have saw the insane amount of traffic a reason to turn around and go home to mourn Jessica's death his own way instead of going to the actual funeral. Maybe he should have listened to the numbness he felt as he walked up the steps to the Funeral Home and never walked inside. All of these things he felt he should have done because going to the funeral was one of the worst things he had ever done, but one of the best things he could of hoped for at the same time.

Life is all about timing, the thing they don't tell you about timing is that it is a bitch and throws you curve balls at just the wrong time just to trip you up to watch you fall on your face.

The Funeral Home was packed with Jessica's mourners. Friends and family who had come to say their goodbyes to the picture sitting on top of the closed casket and to reminisce about what a beautiful person inside and out she had been in a way that only happened when you were dead.  
As Sam made polite conversation with the other mourners he tried to smile or to cry but couldn't force himself to and just trying seemed to drain him of what little energy he had left.

It was during the eulogies that Sam first laid eyes on the man that would turn his world inside out and upside down. He stood in the back of the room, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. It was hard not to notice him because everyone else had at least attempted to dress up for the occasion while he was wearing ripped and worn jeans, a black t-shirt under a flannel over-shirt. Sunglasses were perched on top of his head. He stood out like a sore thumb.

Sam tried to listen to the men and women who stood up to speak about Jessica, he honestly tried to, but his attention kept being diverted to the man at the back of the room who seemed to be bored. Who was he and what was he doing there? How did he know Jessica? Or perhaps he was the type of man who hung out at funerals and weddings hoping to find some poor girl to pick up for a few hours. It was difficult to tell but all Sam knew was that the man got under his skin.

The eulogies seemed to take forever. All Sam wanted to do was go home with a bottle of whiskey and drown his sorrows in her memory, the Winchester way. He did not want to be there anymore with all of the strangers who did not seem to feel the same Earth shattering numbness he felt. He almost sighed with relief when the pallbearers grabbed the closed casket and began their decent out to the hearse so that they would be able to transport it to the grave site. At least then, Sam would have a few minutes to himself as he drove to the cemetery in the long procession behind the crawling hearse.

Alone in the Impala, Sam allowed himself to breathe. Somehow the confines of the vehicle was not as claustrophobic as the funeral home had been, not that he was thinking too much about it. He was trying not to think about anything.

That is, until he noticed who was behind him in line. Sam could not hear the growl of the motorcycle over the roar of the Impala but he found himself unwilling to look away when he noticed who was sitting on top of the bike.

As they crawled slowly to the cemetery, he found it difficult to keep his eyes on the road and more than once almost ran into the little old lady driving in front of him.

"Get it together, Sam." He scolded himself, gripping the steering wheel tighter and forcing himself to look ahead and not in any of the rear-view mirrors. The task seemed to be more difficult than he had originally anticipated because it felt as if he had to constantly check himself from looking back.

"He's just some random guy," Sam told himself through gritted teeth. "It does not matter who he is or what he is doing." Any hopes of having a peaceful drive was shattered.

By time they had actually made it to the cemetery, Sam was on edge. This was a day for Jessica, to mourn her death and say his final goodbyes but here he was obsessing over some guy for no reason other than he had dressed differently than everyone else there. That was not a good enough reason for his thoughts to be anywhere other than on his dead girlfriend. What was wrong with him? He wished he had an answer, but he came up with nothing.

The ceremony was beautiful and everyone was in tears by the time Jessica was lowered into the ground, Sam included, and the tears seemed to lift a weight he had not been aware he had been carrying.

When everything was done and over with, Sam felt lost. What was he supposed to do now? Go home, he supposed. Spend the rest of the alone in his room with the bottle of whiskey he had promised himself that morning. Everything felt anti-climatic and now Sam was unsure what to do. He didn't want to go home, but where would he go? Out to some local dive to drink his pain away along with all of the other poor unfortunate souls drinking at noon on a Wednesday.

With a heavy sigh, Sam got in line to talk to Jessica's parents so that he would be able to leave. He couldn't bring himself not to say something to them, after all he did feel responsible for her death in the first place. If he had been home maybe he could have prevented the fire that had killed her. Instead he had been at the library. He couldn't help but feeling guilty and they guilt only grew thanks to the fact he could not stop thinking about the man with the motorcycle.

The line took forever but eventually he found himself at the front of the line and gave her parents each a hug in turn.

"I'm so sorry," Sam began, a wave of fresh tears beginning to fall. Jessica's mother held him tighter, crying herself.

"Oh, Sam. Thank you so much for coming." She sobbed into his shoulder.

"Nick, what a surprise." Her father said, obviously surprised. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Of course. Jess was a dear friend." A low voice said from behind him.

"It's been a long time." Jessica's father continued, getting his wife's attention.

"Nick?" She choked out, letting go of Sam to wrap her arms around the man with the motorcycle.

"Hello, Rachel."

Sam couldn't pay attention to the rest of their conversation. It was as if his brain had completely shut down. All he knew was that he had to get out of there.

Saying his hasty goodbyes, he all but ran back to the safety of the Impala where at least Nick could not fallow him. He was not so lucky with the thoughts of him, but by this point he was just happy he could not see him.


	2. The Sharpest Lives

Title: The Darker Side of Heaven  
Chapter 2: The Sharpest Lives

 _Well it rains when it pours when your out on your own. If I crash on the couch can I sleep in my clothes? 'Cause I spent the night dancing, I'm drunk I suppose. If it looks like I'm laughing I'm really just asking to leave.- The Sharpest Lives by My Chemical Romance_

It had been two weeks since Jessica's funeral and Sam was a miserable wreck. Dean tried to keep his spirits up but Sam found himself faking his smiles in hopes that Dean would leave him alone. He knew that his brother didn't really believe him but he stopped asking him if he was alright every time he looked at him. That had to be something.

Sam sat at the kitchen table, a coffee cup between his hands. He hadn't actually drank any of the coffee but he took comfort in it's warmth. It wasn't a real feeling but it was the closest thing he had felt to an honest to God feeling ever since Jessica's funeral. He had felt numb and he could not tell if it was a bad thing or not. From where he was sitting, being numb was better than pain or depression. This way he felt nothing and he preferred it that way.

"Good morning." Dean said through a yawn as he stumbled his way into the kitchen, stretching his arms above his head.

Sam did not reply but looked down at his mug as if the answers to the universe were hidden in the contents of his coffee. Maybe they were.

"What are you going to do today?" Dean asked, ignoring the fact that Sam had not answered him.

Sam still said nothing, shrugging his shoulder as if his brother would be able to see it through the back of his head as he poured his own cup of coffee.

Looking over his shoulder at his brother, Dean let out a sigh and put down the coffee pot. "We need to talk about this, Sammy."

Sam still said nothing. He had nothing to say to anybody.

"You need to get out of the house. I understand that you needed time, I really do, but you need to get out of the house. Go somewhere, anywhere. I don't care. You just need to get out of the house." Dean said. It was careful, as if he did not want to seem like he was attacking him in any way. Sam did not care either way. Dean could have screamed it at him and he doubted it would have made a difference.

"And where should I go?" Sam asked, his voice soft as he continued to look into the depths of his mug. "School? The library?"

Dean sat at the table across from his brother, coffee mug in hand. "Why don't you go on a walk today? No destination, just get out and walk. Maybe the fresh air will do you some good."

Sam nodded in agreement. He couldn't see how it would hurt anything. He couldn't see how it would help anything but he couldn't see how it would hurt. He took a sip of his coffee, not really tasting it but it seemed to satisfy Dean.

...

Sam got dressed, not paying attention to what he was wearing and his movements more automatic than anything else but he was dressed. One thing accomplished.

Dean was sitting at the kitchen table, typing away at the lab top when Sam came downstairs.

"Bye, Dean." Sam called.

"Be good, Sammy." Dean called after him.

'Yeah,' Sam thought, pulling on his coat. 'Be good.'

The sky was turning gray and Sam could feel the oncoming rain in the air. Maybe he should have turned around and went back inside with the excuse that it was going to rain and that he couldn't get out.

He thought about it for a long moment, staring up at the sky before deciding against it. If he went back inside for any reason outside of bodily harm Dean would hold it over his head. He wouldn't have to say anything and Sam would know that his brother was judging him. He couldn't blame him, he would probably do the same thing to him if the situations were reversed.

Not allowing himself to think about where he should go, he began walking in a general direction, hands shoved in his pockets.

After about ten minutes it began to rain, heavy drops falling from the sky. It was the kind of weather that should have happened at the funeral. Looking up at the sky as he walked, Sam wondered how long he would have to walk before it was safe to go back home and the comfort of his bed and the bottle of Jack he had hidden in his bedside table.

Sam continued to walk until the rain began to pour. It was the kind of storm people hated to drive in, were the visibility was low, the sound of water trying to drown out the sound of everything else. Looking around he tried to find somewhere to wait out the storm.

Fate was a bitch.

He was standing outside of a bar. He did not know which one it was but judging by the neon Coors sign in the window there was no doubt where he was. If he had to wait out the storm there were worse places he could do it. Not giving it much thought, Sam walked through the door.

It was pretty much like every other bar he had ever been to. It was a little dark, several pool tables, small tables scattered throughout the room. Nothing about the room he was in suggested he was in the wrong place as he peeled off his wet coat inside the door before making his way to the bar.

"What can I do you for?" Asked the bartender. Sam looked up at him, for some reason or another forgetting that at least the bartender would talk to him, if for nothing else than to ask what he wanted to drink, and felt his jaw fall open.

It was Nick. Nick from Jessica's funeral. The guy who had sneaking into his thoughts for the past two weeks at inopportune moments. The man who made him feel guilty for thinking about someone else when he was supposed to be grieving the loss of his girlfriend.

"Uh," Sam felt himself blush, something he knew should not happen around somebody who probably did not remember him. "Bourbon?"

Nick nodded and poured Sam a generous amount. Maybe he did remember him after all. Looking at the glass sitting in front of him, he shrugged before downing it and signaling for another. If he was going down the rabbit hole there was no point in being sober for it.

...

Time always passed weirdly when Sam had been drinking. He tried to think about how long he had been sitting there, ordering drinks for no other reason than to talk to Nick. He knew he should have stopped a long time ago and made his way back home but couldn't make himself do it. He just wanted to sit there, drinking liquid courage, until he had the guts to actually talk to Nick.

Sam giggled, burying his face in his arm.

"Are you alright?" Nick asked, leaning against the bar, eying him in a way that Sam couldn't explain.

"I know you." Sam slurred, not lifting his head. "Your Nick."

"And your drunk." Came the reply which made Sam giggle again,

"You were at Jess' funeral." It came out kind of sing-song which made him laugh outright.

"Yes I was. We were good friends a long time ago." Nick said and that made Sam pick his head up to really look at him. Short blond hair, square face, blue eyes that seemed to pierce right through him... he got kind of lost after that.

"You're eyes are really pretty." Sam told him, leaning across the bar to get a closer look. "They remind me of ice. In a good way." At least that's what he hoped he said. Things were starting to get a little fuzzy around the edges.

"Thank you, I think." Nick was looking at him in a way that Sam did not understand. It was part amusement, part pity, and something else that he could not put his finger on.

"Yep, pretty." And that's all that Sam remembered. He must have passed out.

...

Sam remembered waking up several times to a man staring at him. Those blue eyes piercing through him. Those beautiful blue eyes.

"Don le' me." Sam managed to slur but the man must have understood him because each time he would smile and reassure him that he was not going anywhere. That he would be right there when he woke up. And then Sam was asleep again.

...

Sam woke up to a blinding pain that seemed to radiate throughout his entire head, making his stomach churn. He felt terrible and it did not help that he did not remember how he got home. The last thing he remembered was drinking but that did not mean much. Dean was the king of getting blackout drunk, but he always managed to make his way home somehow.

"Dean," Sam croaked, his mouth dry and his voice uncooperative.

"Sorry, just Nick." Came a voice from behind him.

Nick? Nick. The guy from the funeral. The bartender. Ugh, how much had he had to drink? Obviously too much. Rolling over, his head and stomach making it abundantly clear that it had been a bad idea he found himself looking at Nick. He was sitting on what appeared to be a chair from a kitchen table, leaning forward with his arms on his knees.

"How long have I been out?" Sam croaked, burying his face into the pillows.

Pillows? He was in a bed. And Nick was watching him. What the hell was going on? And why was he not as weirded out about all of this as he should have been? There was a voice in his head screaming about being in a strangers bed while said stranger sat at the bedside staring at him. Stranger danger and all that.

"About six hours." Nick said, still staring at him in that way that made him feel as if he was trying to look through him instead of just at him.  
Carefully, Sam moved until he was sitting on his knees. It made his stomach threaten to empty it's contents all over Nick's bed.

"I'm sorry." Sam looked down at his knees, unable to look at Nick. Shame engulfing him. He had made a complete ass of himself in front of the person he couldn't help but think about for the past two weeks. He was not going to be able to ever look him in the eye again.

"Everything is fine. I'm just glad that you are alright." Sam could see that he had moved to sit back in the chair. "You kept asking me to stay with you and the few times I was in the other room you would yell for me until I came back. You would smile and ask me not to leave you again. I had to bring a chair in."

Sam felt his face burn with embarrassment. He didn't really remember much of the night before. He remembered drinking and he remembered waking up several times but other than that he was at a loss.

"Oh, now that you are awake, I should probably tell you that someone named Dean has been blowing up your phone." Nick said, holding the device out to him, a strange look on his face that Sam did not know how to classify. Taking it, he checked what qualified as 'blowing up'.

Fifteen missed calls and twelve texts. Looking through them he found several 'where are you's, 'why are you not answereing's, 'are you alright's and a few threats. Groaning, he put the phone down, not bothering to listen to the voice mails.

"Who's Dean?" Nick asked, still staring at Sam in that strange way.

"He's my big brother. He's a little over protective." Sam answered, rubbing at his eyes, noticing for the first time how stiff his muscles were.

"Well," Nick stood up, stretching himself, "I don't know about you but I could defiantly go for some coffee. If that is something you are interested in I'll be in the kitchen."

"One question." Sam yawned.

"Just one?" The other man offered the first smile Sam had seen from him.

"For now. I can't promise there wont be more over coffee."

"Fair enough."

"Where's the bathroom?" And for some unknown reason, Nick laughed.


	3. See You Again

Title: The Darker Side of Heaven  
Chapter 3: See You Again

A/N: Sorry that this was so late. Moving and unpacking kind of put a damper on these things. So, as an apology, I give you two chapters for the price of one. Enjoy.

 _I got a way of knowing when something is right. I feel like I must have met you in another life 'cause I felt this deep connection when I looked in your eyes and I can't wait to see you again.- See You Again by Miley Cyrus_

Sam stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, using his time in the bathroom as an excuse to pull himself together where Nick would be unable to look at him in that piercing way of his. He looked like hell and felt even worse. Washing his face in the sink, he let himself go over the night before, trying to find a way to save face.

Alright, so he had messed up. He had too much to drink and now he was in a stranger's home. Had slept in a strangers bed. That was bad. But for something bad, it couldn't be that bad because Nick did not seem to have minded taking care of a drunk stranger. He had given him his bed, was offering him coffee, and hadn't kicked him out on the street yet. That had to be a good sign right? He wouldn't know, that would have been something more up Dean's alley than Sam's. Should he call him? Ask him what he should do? No, he decided against it even as he had the thought. He knew that Dean would only freak out, promise to come get him, and threaten Nick for playing any part in this. He would be lucky if they got out with out any punches being thrown. No, he was going to keep Dean as out of this as possible.

Nick was in the kitchen making coffee as promised. It wasn't until that moment that he realized that he had no idea what time it was. Pulling his phone out of his pocket he checked the time and was surprised to find that is was seven forty.

"It's a little late for coffee, maybe?" Sam asked, sitting at the kitchen table, watching Nick's back as he worked around the kitchen.

"It is never too late for coffee." Nick sounded offended that somebody would ever think that any time was not an appropriate time for coffee.

"If you say so." Sam clutched at his head that was still threatening to crack open like a walnut. He promised himself that he would never drink again, knowing full well that he did not really mean it.

"I do. I know these things." Nick nods to himself as he looks through a cabinet for mugs.

Sam didn't dignify that with an answer, instead he cradled his head in his hands, wishing that his head would stop attempting to split in two and that his stomach would stop threatening to empty it's contents all over the kitchen table.

Before long Nick was setting coffee in front of him before sitting in the chair opposite of him, a mug of his own in his hands as he watched Sam. The look on his face was as if he was something he had never seen before or at least something he could not understand.

"What?" Sam asked, lowering his hands from his head in favor of wrapping them around the coffee mug.

"Nothing."

Nick was still looking at him in the way that Sam was convinced that he was always going to look at him. Like he was some kind of science experiment.  
Clearing his throat he decided it was as good a time as any to start asking questions. "How did I get here?"

Nick took a sip of his coffee. "Alistair and Azazle helped me carry you upstairs. As it turns out, trying to carry the Jolly Green Giant while he is dead weight is difficult. I had to recruit help."

"Are we upstairs from the bar?" Sam asked, trying to wrap his head around... Well everything. His head was not being cooperative. He blamed the insistent pounding.

"Yeah. I own it and have the privilege of living upstairs from work." He shrugged.

"Why did you carry me up here?" Sam asked, taking a sip of the coffee he had in his hands. It was strong but it was good and surprisingly his stomach seemed to agree with it.

"Because you were passed out. I couldn't, in good conscious, leave you laying on the bar for an unknown amount of time." He laughed as if it were both funny and obvious. "Most of the guys that frequent my bar are regulars so I know how to deal with them. You, on the other hand, I know nothing about. I didn't really have much choice."

Sam took another drink of the coffee. He was at a complete loss. The man he had been obsessing over happens to own the bar he used as shelter from the rain and carried his drunk ass upstairs into his apartment. Things like this do not happen outside of... Well, outside of porn. What the hell was he supposed to do? He wished he knew. Instead, Sam took another drink of coffee and wished that he didn't feel like sinking through the floor in embarrassment.

Even though Sam was trying not to look at Nick he could still feel the other man staring at him. Or rather, trying to look through him. He had never met anyone who had that particular ability and he found himself squirming under the intense gaze he could feel even if he could not see.

"What?" Sam asked again, doubting he would ever get a real answer from him.

"What?" Nick asked back. Sam let himself glance back at the other man to find a small smile on his face.

"What?"

Nick laughed outright.

"Do I really have to ask again?" Sam asked, unsure what to say. He did not understand his host at all and he was beginning to wonder if he was making fun of him in some way.

"It's nothing. Just thinking about our serendipitous meeting." Nick took a sip of his own coffee, still staring at Sam. Was there ever a time that he was not staring at him? He couldn't think of a time since they had met officially. It was one thing that the Nick that had taken up residence in his mind had never done and for some reason the comparison unnerved him.

"Serendipitous, huh?" Sam asked. "How so?"

"Like you said, you recognized me from Jessica's funeral. I recognized you too. It's serendipitous that we meet again so soon." For the first time, Nick looked away in favor of looking into his coffee, smirk still in place. For some reason that made things inside of him squirm. He tried to ignore it.

"I don't know, I don't live very far away from your bar. We would have met at some point in time."

"Well, it doesn't hurt that you are the Jolly Green Giant. It would be pretty hard to miss you."

Sam nodded his head in agreement. How often had Dean told him that he would be impossible to lose, even if he tried? Brotherly joking aside, he knew that his size alone made him noticeable. He couldn't help but wish that there had been some other feature, any other feature, that had caught Nick's attention. That thought lead to wondering if he ever thought of him the way Sam did. Did he run around Nick's mind the way he did his own?  
"So, in short, you are just really happy that you have officially met the Jolly Green Giant in person. That's a nice way to be remembered."

"Well, I have to admit that it was a nice bonus."

"Meaning?"

Nick met his eyes again. "Meaning that it is nice to finally meet you..."

"Sam. Sam Winchester."

"Sam." Nick nodded in acknowledgment, raising his mug in cheers.

Hearing his name on Nick's lips sent a shiver up Sam's spine. It was at that moment that he realized that he was in trouble.


	4. Someone Special

The Darker Side of Heaven  
Chapter 4: Someone Special

 _I wake up to the sound of rain upon my sill. Pick up the pieces of my yesterday, old thrill.- Someone Special by Poets of the Fall_

Sam opted to walk home even though Nick had insisted that he drive him, but he knew how that would end up if some unknown vehicle dropped him off after so long of not calling. Irate would be putting Dean's reaction mildly. So instead, Sam walked home, Nick's phone number programmed into his phone with the promise of a text letting him know that he had gotten home okay and the aftermath of the earlier rain splashing around his boots with every step he took, quickly soaking his pant legs.

He had hoped that the time it took to walk home would give him time to think of a good story to tell Dean that would explain his prolonged absence and why he had not answered his calls or bothered to get a hold of him in some way. All too soon he was walking up to his front door with nothing to show for his efforts. At this point it looked as if he was either going to have to tell his brother nothing at all or tell him the truth. Neither one of those options looked appeasing.

Sighing, he unlocked the door and walked inside. He found Dean in the kitchen, his feet on the table with a beer in his hand as he watched something or another on the laptop. Judging by the high pitched noises coming from the speakers it was not a mystery what he was watching. Asian cartoon porn. Anime hentai. Awesome.

Dean looked up from the screen, eyebrows raised. "Where have you been?"

"Out."

"Obviously. Out where?" Dean asked and Sam knew that he was not going to let the fact his baby brother had been awol go.

"I got caught in the rain." As much as he hated to admit it, he squirmed under the look that Dean was giving him. He was using years of elder brother know how against him and it wasn't fair.

"And?"

"And so I walked into the first building I came to."

Dean shook his head in a clear 'hurry it up' motion. "Which was?"

"A bar?" Sam looked down at his feet. ""Luci's Lounge."

"Sam," Dean started but Sam cut him off.

"The owner of the bar took care of me. It's fine."

Dean closed the lid of the computer and put his feet on the floor. "No, Sam, it's not fine. What if something would have happened to you? Huh? I did not know where you were at or who you were with. You can't run off like that, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You are not Dad, Dean. You can't tell me where I can or can not go. You are my brother, not my keeper."

"And what would have happened if the owner of Luci's hadn't have been there? Then what would have happened?"

"Nothing I'm sure. It took three guys to carry me upstairs so that nothing would have happened." He shook his head, long hair whipping him in the face. "Look, I'm tired, alright? I'm going to go upstairs and go to sleep. I'm fine, I'm home, and nothing happened. Can we just drop it?"

Dean did not say anything but Sam knew what he was going to do. As soon as he figured that he was asleep, Dean was going to head down to the bar and question everyone there about what had happened.

As soon as he was in his room, Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Nick.

 _Made it home fine. Dean is on his way to the bar to interrogate you- thought I'd warn you. Sam._

If nothing else, Nick had been warned about what Dean was about to do and sure enough as soon as he had flopped onto the bed, hugging his pillow close to his face, he heard the Impala start up.

Sam's phone made the ding noise that signaled that he had a text message. Opening the message up he found a response from Nick.

 _Okay. Do I tell him the truth or some outrageous lie?_

 _Like what? What on earth would you tell my brother?_

The answer came back quickly.

 _You were in my bed so the possibilities are endless._

That made Sam laugh and the mental image of Dean's face as he heard about some imaginary hook-up made it all the better.

 _Don't give him an aneurism._

 _You are just no fun at all. Fine I'll keep it clean for your brother._

Smiling, Sam did manage to fall asleep.

...

Even though he was still tired, Sam did not sleep well. HE kept walking up for no reason he could find and have to wait for what felt like an eternity to fall asleep again. He was tempted to give up trying and just get out of bed for good when he heard the tell tale ring of a new text message.

 _I don't think your brother likes me but no blood was shed. That counts for something right?_

Sam frowned, surprised that Dean had not hit Nick on principle alone. His brother in some stranger's bed? That was more than enough reason to start a fight.

He read the message again and amended that they might have fought, but it shouldn't have been that bad.

Giving up on trying to sleep, he got out of bed, changed his shirt and returned Nick's text as he made his way downstairs.

 _He didn't hurt your pretty face did he?_

As soon as he sent it, he regretted it. He had been joking but what if Nick didn't see it that way? What if he saw it as Sam coming on to him?  
He grimaced, his whole face scrunching up in the effort.

"It's going to stick that way, you know." Dean called from the kitchen.

Of course Dean was still awake.

Making his way into the kitchen, Sam shoved his phone in his pocket to wait out the answering message. If he sends one, a nasty voice in the back of his mind pointed out. Ignoring it, he got to work making coffee even though he could still feel the effects of his earlier intersession.

"It's going on midnight, Sammy. A little late for coffee, dont'ya think?" Dean offered, beer sitting beside the open laptop.

"A little late for cartoon porn, isn't it?" Sam countered.

"It's not cartoon porn. It's real porn thank you very much."

"Ew. Not where we eat, dude." Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust even though it was obvious that his brother was doing nothing but watching. It still unnerved him that Dean was so blatant about things like that. Most people waited until they were behind closed doors but he had never really cared if somebody seen or walked in.

Sam had his back turned but he heard the click of the lid being shut on the computer.

"What are you still doing up?" Dean asked as if nothing had happened.

"Couldn't sleep." Sam answered as he filled the filter with water.

"So coffee is going to help that?" Dean asked and Sam could hear the sound of glass sliding across the table.

"It's never too late for coffee." Sam said with a small smile.

"Since when?" Dean scoffed.

"Today. It's a coffee kind of day."

Dean snorted but didn't say anything to contradict him. As Sam waited for his coffee to be done, not having one of those face instant coffee machines Nick had, he sat at the table with Dean.

"So, I heard you leave." And there it was, ut in the open. Blatant but not as blunt as he could have been. Dean eyed him as he took a pull from his beer.

"Yeah, I left."

"And I take it, you found Luci's" Sam pushed.

"Yeah, I found Luci's."

"And?"

"And? What?" Dean asked, putting his feet on the floor. A sure sign that they were going to have a 'talk.' And by talk it was obvious that Dean was going to talk and Sam was going to listen.

"What happened? I hope that some poor Joe is not in the hospital because you broke something over nothing at all."

Dean made a face that said 'yeah, that's me' before continuing. "Nobody is in the hospital. Everyone is fine."

"Fine as in 'nothing is broken' or fine as in 'yeah we fought but nobody got hurt'?" Sam pushed. Nick had not been helpful in his message and he wanted to know that he was alright.

Which was stupid because Nick was a stranger and he shouldn't care if he got a little bruised because of his brother being overly protective.  
Dean eyed him again, as if he were trying to read his brother's mind. If it had been Nick pulling the same face Sam would be convinced that he was succeeding.

The moment was ruined as Sam's phone went off telling him that he had a new message. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked it, trying not to laugh.

 _Aww Sammy you do care. My beautiful face is still vey much in tact. I know how much that means to you :D_

They were strangers but already they were acting as if they were already friends. Hell, maybe they were.

Putting his phone down he went back to the conversation at hand, making a note to text him back when he was done having this little heart to heart with his brother.

"So, did you get in a fight or not?" Sam asked, still waiting for an answer from either one of them.

"He knew who I was." Dean said instead, dodging the question again. "Dean Winchester, the brother of Colossus. Real cute, by the way." There it was again, the look.

"Colossus, huh? That one is new. He seemed awfully fond of Jolly Green earlier." Sam shrugged, not wanting to give his brother the satisfaction of causing a reaction.

"Look Sam, I don't know what is going on between you two but I don't like it."

And that was all of the answer he was going to get. He was going to have to ask Nick.

"There is nothing going on between us. I just met the man." Sam got out of his chair and went to check on his coffee.

"And already you have been sleeping in his bed." Dean griped. Sam let the 'already' go, knowing that if he said anything it would give his brother more of a reason to think that there was more going on than there really was.

"Did you not hear the whole part about pass out drunk? Or did that not fit your little... Whatever so you left it out?" Sam asked, riffling through the strainer looking for a mug.

"Why didn't he just call me? I would have pick your drunk ass up."

"Again, what part of pass out drunk do you not understand?" Sam asked, filling the coffee mug.

"You always were a lightweight." Dean mumbled.

"Listen to me, Dean. There is nothing going on between Nick and I. We do not know each other. Nothing happened. And if you have a problem with it than I guess I'll just chalk this up as a failure and not venture outside again. I'll stay upstairs and be depressed and mopey. You choose."

He did not give Dean the chance to answer. He took his mug with him when he went back upstairs.

...

A/N: If anybody is interested, I can write what happened at Luci's with Dean and Nick. You know, for those of you who want to know what happened. Just let me know.


	5. Vermilion

Chapter 5: Vermilion

 _She is everything to me, the unrequited dream. The song that no one sings, the unattainable. She's the myth that I have to believe in. All I need to make her real is one more reason. I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do, and she makes me sad.- Vermilion part 2 by Slipknot_

Sam stayed in his room the next day, mostly to annoy Dean who he knew would over think everything and blame it on himself. Maybe it was stupid and shallow but he had hopes that if he did not come down Dean would take what he had said to heart.

There had been a time when being stuck in his room all day would have drove him insane. He was usually active by nature and he did not like to just sit around doing nothing. That was before Jess had died. These days he did not do much of anything. He couldn't find the drive to. Instead, he found himself laying in bed trying not to cry over his loss as the days merged together and it became hard to tell how long he had actually been isolated in his room between sleeping all day and not being able to sleep at all. Thanks to the black out curtains there were periods where he had no idea how many days he had been in there outside of Dean complaining about the smell.

Sam laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing that Jessica was laying beside him. He missed the way that she curled into him, her head laying on his chest. He missed the soft sound of her breathing as she slept, and the way she would spoon up against his back if he turned away from her. His nose burned in the way that told him that he was going to cry and he wasn't going to be able to stop it.

"Stop it." He told himself as if his body was going to listen to him. Instead he found hot tears rolling down the sides of his face mingling in his hair and the shell of his ears. It was ugly he knew, his face would be red and blotchy if he looked into anything reflective and he hated that he could not stop it. Once he started he could not stop and he prayed that Dean would leave him alone and stay out of his room. He wouldn't be able to look him in the face if he was caught crying like this.

God he missed her. The way she laughed and how she looked at him as if he were her moon and stars. He thought about the things he wanted to say to her. He wanted her to know just how much he loved her, how much he missed her, and how he never thought that he would find anybody else. She had been the love of his life and he could not imagine feeling the way about anyone else the way he felt about Jessica. The way she had made his heart swell like a balloon, how she made him so happy but somehow made his heart ache at the same time as if his heart was breaking with just how much he loved her or something. He did not have words for it. All he knew was that everytime he looked at her he had fallen in love with her a little more.

How could he ever feel like that with someone else? He was only twenty two and his life may as well be over. He was nothing with out Jessica. She kept him on point and made life worth living. And it was all over. She was dead and he was never going to get anything back.

More tears fell and, for the thousandth time since the night that their home had gone up in flames, he felt his heart breaking and the world around him shatter. He needed her in his life an he would never hear her voice, or feel her touch, or come home to her making cookies. And for the thousandth time he fell asleep crying, sleeping the sleep you can only get because of exhaustion.

...

Sam woke up to the sound of his phone ringing. Absently, he reached out and grabbed the device from the bed side table and answered it.  
"Hello?" His voice was rough and he had to clear it before repeating himself to make sure he was heard.

"Samsquach," the voice on the other end said in a voice that was far to cheery, especially for someone who had fallen asleep crying. "What are you doing right now?"

"Uh, talking to you?" Sam rubbed at his eyes. They burned with the need to close them again.

"Excellent! So you're not doing anything? Then you need to come to the bar, right now." Nick said happily.

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"I need a shower." Sam mumbled, still rubbing his eyes even though he knew that it was not helping anything.

"Fine, shower and then meet me at the bar." And then Nick hung up.

"Okay, I guess." Sam said to a dead phone. Feeling as if he weighed a thousand pounds, he drug himself out of bed and into the shower, not understanding why he was jumping at Nick's call when all he wanted to do is go back to sleep. Instead he took a shower, trying to wash his sadness down the drain, got dressed, and made his way downstairs.

Dean wasn't in the kitchen or the living room, Sam guessed that he had gone to work, something he had forgotten about until that moment. Just because his life had slowed to a stop did not mean that anyone else's had. In any case it saved him from having to deal with his brother as he locked the door and pocketed his keys.

The walk to Lucy's seemed to take forever as Sam wondered, yet again, why he had agreed to go. Not that he had said so to Nick, who had just assumed that he would come, but he did get out of bed and that in itself said it said he did not know but it said something which counted, he guessed.

The bar only had a few patrons, all sitting at the bar. It must be Monday, something he had not thought about. Days of the week and what time it was had meant so little to him that he had rarely thought about them anymore. For some reason the thought bothered him. Brushing it off, he made his way to the bar to wait for Nick.

"If it isn't my favorite new customer!" Nick called from the back, sticking his head through the door, a large smile on his face.

Sam didn't dignify it with a response, instead he stuck his tongue out at him which only made Nick laugh.

"So, what am I doing here, other than answering a crazy man's beck and call?" Sam asked, stifling a yawn.

"You, my ginormus friend, are in for a treat." Nick called from the back. He came out carrying plates on his arms as if he were some kind of waiter. Maybe he was, he really didn't know Nick very well.

"Tada!" He said, placing plates in front of him. Plates of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and toast. Breakfast.

"What's all of this?" Sam asked, not wanting to believe that a stranger had made him breakfast for no reason other than because he wanted to.  
"Lucy's special." Nick said with a grin. "But don't get used to it though because I don't cook for just anyone."

"I thought Lucy's special was a greasy pork sandwich served in a dirty ashtray." Someone called from down the bar.

"No, that's just for you, Anderson. This is Lucy's special for people I actually like." Nick called back with a wink for Sam.

"I can't accept this." Sam stammered, unsure what to do. What was the etiquette for something like this?

"You can and you will because I made it myself, on the house, and you will eat." Nick pointed a finger in Sam's face and tried to look stern but the smile was still peeking through.

"Okay. Whatever you say, crazy man with a spatula." Sam couldn't help but smile back.

"Damn straight. Eat." Nick pointed at the food sitting in front of him.

As Sam cut into his pancakes, realizing just how hungry he was, Nick watched every movement in that way of his.

"So, any particular reason I get Lucy's special for breakfast?" Sam asked, taking a bite. They could have given Dean a run for his money.

"Your brother said you haven't gotten out much since Jess' funeral." Nick said, his smile fading.

Sam only shrugged. He didn't want to talk about Jess.

"I'm going to change that."

Sam couldn't tell if it was a threat or a promise.


	6. Wasteland

Chapter 6: Wasteland

 _Change my attempt, good intention. Should I? Could I? - Wasteland by 10 Years_

Nick kept true to his word, and even though he spent the morning working, he spent the day with Sam. He sat at the bar while Nick got drinks for the few patrons that were there, keeping a running commentary on who's who and who did what. Apparently being a bartender was the occupation to have if you wanted to know everything about everyone.

Sam didn't say much and knew that he was boring company but he felt like crap and he knew he looked it. Nick didn't say anything about it and for that Sam was grateful even though he knew he was making it worse by constantly rubbing at his dry eyes.

"Oh, Nicolai," one of the women at the other end of the bar called. "Another one, pretty please."

"Are you sure you want another White Russian?" Nick asked her, even as he made her drink. Apparently he already knew the answer.

"Don't be such a spoiled sport." She called back. "You'll take all of the fun out of life."

"I wouldn't want to do that."

"Your name is Nicolai?" Sam asked, nibbling on a piece of bacon that Nick kept pushing at him, trying not to rub at his eyes but they burned.

"No." He set the drink in front of the woman who handed him money in return. "It's just Nick. Not Nicolai, not Nicholas, just Nick."

"Nicholas!" Another woman called with a giggle. "Like Saint Nicholas?" She laughed again. "If I sit on your lap will you give me a present?" At that she burst into hysterical laughter and was joined by the rest of the bar.

"Only good girls get presents, and you are not a good girl." Nick answered with a wink at Sam. The patrons contended to laugh.

Sam wondered about the wink. What it meant, if it meant anything at all. Why he had aimed it at him instead at the drunk woman who had asked in the first place. Maybe he was over thinking things, but he couldn't help it. If he wasn't thinking about Jess he was thinking about Nick and he wondered how both of them were going to make peace in his head.

He missed Jess like crazy, every minute away from her was a physical pain in his chest and his mind was constantly thinking about her, the good, bad, and the ugly of their relationship from the moment they had met. Nick was an entirely different kind of being. He didn't know him at all outside of some basics but he seemed to be on his mind all of the time as well. If he found a moment he wasn't thinking about Jess he was thinking about Nick, going over everything from the moment he had laid eyes on him. It wasn't the same thing he felt about Jess but he couldn't deny the fact that he felt something, something he could not explain, for the man. He wasn't sure how he felt about that but he couldn't deny it.

Sam watched Nick as he worked and he realized for the first time since Jess had died he felt anything close to happiness. It wasn't exactly happy but he didn't have any other word to describe it. All he knew was that he wasn't sad, and for him that was something huge. He liked Nick, he liked being around him. Something's you couldn't logic your way out of, not that he hadn't tried over the past few days. It just got him nowhere.

"And that's my shift." Nick said happily, walking around the bar as another man walked through the door. He had a heavy jaw and there was something about him that put Sam on edge. Nick walked around the bar and shook hands with the man.

"Veronica is cut off from the hard stuff." Nick told the man with a laugh. "Other than that, have a good shift, Alistair."

Alistair only nodded before making his way behind the bar. Sam felt a distinct drop in the liveliness of the bar. Apparently he was not the on one who felt something was off about Alistair.

"The night is young, Sammikins." Nick said, threading his arm through his as he pulled him off of the bar stool. "Lets go paint it red."

As soon as the door closed behind them Nick let go of Sam's arm, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, though he did not loose his smile. The sun was still high in the sky though Sam did not know the time thanks to leaving his phone at home.

"So, what do you want to do?" Sam asked as they walked down the street, seemingly aimlessly.

"Honestly, I spend all of my time working. It gives me something to do. I have no idea what to do." Nick said, looking at Sam in that penetrating way that he was sure was saved special for him, judging by the way he treated everyone at the bar.

"I don't get out much anymore, either." Sam said quietly, looking down at his feet as they walked.

"So, then what does a workaholic and a hermit do when they are forced outside?" Nick asked, smile firmly in place.

"Go back inside and hide from the sun?" Sam offered.

"See, now your just trying to get back to my place." Nick laughed. "I'm not that easy, you know. At least buy me dinner first."

"If I buy you dinner, isn't that kind of like paying you? Wouldn't that make you easy?" Sam asked and was rewarded by a very rich laugh from Nick.

"I guess you're right. That does make me easy. If I'm easy I'm at least going to be expensive." Nick said happily. Sam couldn't help it, it was contagious, he laughed.

"So, I guess we're going to an expensive dinner. What do you want to do in the meantime?" Sam asked, looking up and looking around at what there was to do in their small town.

"See, there's a reason I like you." Nick said, bumping his shoulder into Sam's arm.

"That doesn't answer the question." Sam pointed out.

"Hmmm," Nick was quiet for a long moment. He was probably thinking along the same line Sam was: there weren't many options in a town that small. Teenagers hung out in parking lots or at the local Wal-Mart but for the life of him didn't know what adults did to pass the time. "Would you think poorly of me if I asked you to take a walk with me?"

Sam smiled, he had never been asked to go on a walk before. He didn't know why that made him smile but it did. "Anywhere in particular?"

"No."

"Sounds good."

...

Sam wasn't sure how long they walked but he knew it was for a long time. They stopped twice at gas stations to grab something to drink. He had to admit it felt good being outside, getting fresh air and moving his body. He had spent fsr too long in his room. He forgot how good it felt to get out and be with somebody other than Dean.

As they walked, they talked. General things like what kinds of music they liked and the movies they watched and books they read. They talked about what Sam studied in school, and he liked Nick all the more for not asking questions like why he stopped going and when he would go back. They talked about everything amd nothing at the same time and Sam couldn't remember the last time that he had laughed so much.

He really liked Nick. He really did. He didn't like the thought of Jessica's death bringing something good into his life, but he couldn't stop the thought from surfacing.

Dean's voice penetrated his thoughts in a moment of silence between moments of laughter. "Jess would want you to be happy, Sammy. It would kill her to watch you do this to yourself."

Nick looked up at him, smiling at him and Sam wondered if it would make her happy knowing that this mysterious man that he had first seen at her funeral was the reason he was smiling in the first place. He didn't know the history between the two of him and he was not sure he wanted to know in fear that there was something he would tell him that would paint him in a different light than he was ready to acknowledge.

"So," Nick asked as they waited for a light to turn red. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Not a thing. Why? Do you have another idea as to how to spend the time?"

Nick just smiled and Sam took that for a yes.


	7. World So Cold

The Darker Side of Heaven

Chapter 7: World So Cold

 _I never thought I'd feel this guilty and I'm broken down inside. Living with myself, nothing but lies.- World So Cold by Three Days Grace_

Sam couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in hopes that if he found a comfortable position he would be able to fall asleep but he knew that it was more than just being uncomfortable keeping him awake. His mind would not be quiet long enough for him to go asleep even if he did manage the elusive position that would allow his body to get the sleep it craved after spending the afternoon and most of the evening walking aimlessly around town with Nick, talking about a little bit of nothing and everything all at the same time. And he felt guilty. He felt guilty that he had gotten out of his room, talked to another human being that was not Dean, and did something semi productive with his day. He had taken a long walk with someone who might become a friend, if that wasn't productive after two weeks of barely leaving his room he didn't know what was, but the part that didn't make sense, even to him, was the fact that the very thing he was happy he had done was making him feel guilty.

Jessica's funeral had only been two weeks ago. He should not be up and socializing, getting back into the world as it were. He should be locked in his room, crying over his lost love. He shouldn't be thinking about Nick let alone getting to know him. He shouldn't be doing anything at all other than grieving.

Sam rolled over onto his stomach, pulling his pillow under him with one hand, and tried to quit his mind.

What would Jessica say if she knew what he was doing? Would she be proud to know that he was not going to waste his life away hoping that she would somehow come back to him or would she be angry that he wasn't mourning her the way even he believed he should be? He wished he knew but in truth he did not know. He wished he did. He wished he knew her well enough to be able to know what she would have felt in this situation.

 _If it were you, you would be devastated that she was moving on so quickly_. A nasty voice in his mind told him.

Sam wasn't moving on. Nick was barely even a friend, an acquaintance. That was it. There was nothing more to it. He wasn't doing anything wrong, he knew it no matter what any small part tried to tell him otherwise but he couldn't stop himself from feeling guilty about it.

 _You've been obsessing about him ever since the funeral._ The voice reminded him.

That didn't mean anything. There was no rule against thinking about other people in a platonic way. He had never thought about Nick in any way that was sexual or stalking. He had wondered who he was, what he was doing, and how he knew Jessica; none of these things were inappropriate. Now that he had a name to go with the face and had actual conversations with the man had not changed any of these things. He did not think about Nick in any way that was not platonic. So why did he feel so guilty? Why did he feel like he was betraying Jessica?

Sam rolled over onto his side, drawing his knees to his chest in the fetal position. He did not have faith that this position would have any better results than the other but he couldn't bring himself to not move. It was going to be one of those nights, he could feel it already. He was not going to get any sleep tonight and he knew it. He tried to think about something else. Anything else. No matter the topic he tried to distract himself with he found himself thinking about Jessica and Nick and the different ways their lives could have been entangled, the way his life had been entangled in theirs, and about how through all of this he was betraying Jess in some way or another. It was as if his mind did not want him to be happy and way trying his damnedest to make sure he was not for any reason. No matter what he did, if it included Nick or anyone else that was not Dean, he was betraying her because he should not have anyone else in his life. No friends, defiantly no lovers. Nothing but family and he didn't have much left in the way of family; Winchesters all die young and in that aspect Jess had really been a Winchester all along.

It was that thought that made Sam sit up in bed, rubbing furiously at his eyes to keep them open. No. He couldn't think like that because it would open a whole can of worms and he was not ready for that. He couldn't keep a handle on things as they were, he couldn't bear the thought of how much worse his night would be if he let his mind wander down that particular road.

Ignoring the crappy way he felt, Sam got out of bed and made his way downstairs. He couldn't be in his room anymore. The dark and the silence was keeping his mind awake to torment him, he needed something else to keep his mind quiet.

The living room wasn't as dark as the rest of the house thanks to the street light that was inconveniently outside the window. Tonight he was grateful for the light that he and his brother had complained about in the past.

Pulling the afghan off of the back of the couch, Sam curled up underneath it as he grabbed the remote off of the coffee table and turned the TV on.  
Before he knew it, he was asleep.

...

Sam woke up to the sound of boots against the linoleum in the kitchen. Why such a soft sound would wake him up, he had no idea but he found himself irritated at the fact that Dean's inability to walk like a normal human being woke him up.

His head pounded just behind his left eye and now that he was awake and could feel it he wondered how he had managed to sleep through it.

"Dean?" Sam called, kicking the blankets off of himself. He didn't want them touching him.

"Yeah?" Came the answer.

"Please tell me there's coffee."

There was a chuckle and Dean walked out of the kitchen carrying a mug. "You are going to turn into coffee, the way you drink it."

Sam didn't say anything but took the mug that was offered. He took a sip, wincing at the heat.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked in the tone that Sam knew that Dean knew the answer was no. Dean made sure there was no point in lying or denying it. It was one of the irritating things that came with his older brother practically raising him. Dean knew everything.

"Migraine. It's fine."

Dean didn't say anything but left the room, Sam knew that he was getting something for his migraine. He was only gone for a minute before he threw the bottle at him. Not paying any attention to what it was, Sam took two and chased them with coffee.

"What are you planning to do today?" Dean asked, watching him closely.

Sam didn't look at him. "I don't know yet." It wasn't a lie but it wasn't truth either. He wanted to spend the day with Nick but at what price? He hated feeling so guilty about nothing at all. He hated that thoughts of Jessica's disapproval haunted him at night. He hated that Dean hated the only person he wanted to spend time with. What was the price he was going to have to pay for this friendship with Nick?

"Just promise me that you wont spend all of it inside. If the porch is as far as you get, at least get some fresh air." Dean patted Sam's shoulder and headed back into the kitchen.

Fresh air. If only that would help him.


End file.
